


The Challenges We're Facing

by TheAntiAntiRichthofenClub



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Foster Care, Gen, Grammarly doesn't lie, I can promise good grammar at least, I'm Sorry, Ironically written to the Great Gatsby Soundtrack, Just Alexander struggling, My First Work in This Fandom, Past Abuse, no ships, oops i meant shuffling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:30:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAntiAntiRichthofenClub/pseuds/TheAntiAntiRichthofenClub
Summary: Just another foster care fic, featuring a loveable protagonist with some loveable side characters.





	The Challenges We're Facing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Foster Care AU, featuring a lovable protagonist and equally lovable supporting characters (I honestly hope). 3 chapters are already stashed up on my laptop, so more updates will come in the near future.
> 
>  
> 
> I have absolutely z e r o experience in this field, so everything I toss into this fic comes from the research I've done.

Alexander Hamilton shifted in layers of fabric made viscous with sweat, grime and various liquids accumulated over the past three weeks. 

It was quarter-past two in the early morning, and he had only drunk two out of his four required coffees. His eyes were baggy. Stained a shade of black from the lack of blood flow that was caused by little sleep. Whites bloodshot. Underneath his right eye: a magenta bruise. If he didn’t talk too much, it would stay placid. His mouth was a sandbag this early, anyway.

Kitty Livingston cleared her throat. The cough was tired and spoke of missed sleep. ‘Alexander?’ Her hair was in disarray, eyelashes free of mascara, clothes unironed and thrown on, jawbone dull and unrefined with product. Her voice was groggy with the shroud of sleep, but the words were soft. Gentle. 

Giving, not taking. 

Kitty nudged the clean glass, filled with the clear liquid. _Not coffee _, his brain supplied with disappointment. No, but he wasn’t expecting a buffet. The glass grated the table as it was pushed along by Kitty’s (unpainted, this early morning) fingernail. He watched it. Distrustful. The Eackers used to slip sleeping pills through the water supply.__

__But, no. His brain must not have been processing rationally, with only two cups of coffee and two-and-a-half hours of sleep over three days, because Kitty would _not _dissolve sleeping tablets into his drink. This was an irrational fear, and Kitty was _not _the Eackers. Despite this, she looked as if she were growing impatient at his pauses. Forbidding himself another hesitation, another weakness, he reached for the glass, raised it to cracked lips, gulped. He returned the glass, wiped the corners of his mouth with the sleeves of his oversized sweater. The water cleared his mind a little, but his head swayed._____ _

______‘You look a bit pasty. Don’t worry, you can grab some sleep in a sec. We just gotta answer some questions first.’_ _ _ _ _ _

______He couldn’t bring himself to respond._ _ _ _ _ _

______‘Wanna turn on the aircon? It’s hot in here.’_ _ _ _ _ _

______His stomach churned with nausea. His tongue was as dry as the Gobi. Lips tender from gnawing. Throat sore and unused. He swallowed another mouthful of water, let it settle. ‘How long do I stay at the group home?’ He could handle anything less than months. Months and he would do something drastic: run away, or take a knife and hope for some form - _any _form - of escape.___ _ _ _ _ _

________Oh, Kitty was talking. Alex supposed he better listen. She was smiling, but her eyes were dull and tired. ‘There is no group home, Alexander,’ she said, ‘a family agreed to take you, and they’re offering you a chance.’_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________A chance? A family? Don’t make him laugh. The words, downtrodden and well-worn, stirred a shred of anger hidden deep. ‘Maybe you should record the Loving Family speech for the next time I get kicked for _violent tendencies _.’ Suddenly, he was aware that his breathing was jagged, torn at the edges. And Kitty - she would be mad at him. The Eakers wouldn’t even bother pulling punches.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Kitty sighed, the sound inherently upset. ‘Alexander. Alex. Alexander. Look at me. I’m not angry. It’s not your fault. _I _should apologize. You’re right; you’re always right. You should never ever need to react this way.’ She sighed again. ‘I have something for you.’___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Unless it was a first-aid kit, he didn’t want it. If it was, he wouldn’t take it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________‘Alexander…’ Her voice held no warning, it didn’t, it didn’t. Just gentle coaxing. Gentle. Soft. ‘It’s for the car ride. Virginia is an hour away, and we’ll leave late morning when the sun is high.’ She tried again. ‘C’mon, there’s no TV in the car, so I bought something else for you.’_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________His breath was evening, but not yet even. Alex counted in his head until it was over. (un, doix, trois, quatre-) His heart still pounded, but no longer felt like a jackhammer trying to drill into his ribcage._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________There was a soft _snick _of the magnetic clasp of Kitty’s bag that sat by her worn Vans. She rummaged through the denim, voice muffled as she bent over under the table. ‘Here we are!’ Her voice trembled at the end. She pushed the gift over until Alexander could see the corner of a book from the gap between his elbows.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________A book._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Cautiously, carefully, he straightened up. His first sight was Kitty’s flushed face. Flushed with tears, not anger. Her resulting smile was watery and slipping at the corners. Pink-stained whites were rimmed in silver. He felt almost guilty for not having any tissues to offer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________‘The Great Gatsby,’ Kitty forced out. ‘It’s an American classic. I just thought you might like it.’_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Alex swallowed, reaching for the book. His fingers emerged from the soft cuffs of the sweater and he prayed Kitty wouldn’t call attention to dark bruises across the joints of his index, middle, and ring finger. That had been from six days ago when Jacob Eacker had flicked the birdshit-stained rear door of the Eacker family Subaru on them. He snatched the book, drew it to his lap. It was thin, only a few centimetres thick, but the pages weren’t creased, and the cover was unstrained. When he privately flipped across the pages in his lap, words danced and weaved across the pages, and the page numbers flew._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The smile broke out into something noticeably less quivery and cemented itself. ‘I’m sorry that I couldn’t get you anything else on my last placement with you...’ she trailed off._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________‘No, no, thank you.’ Alex released a sharp breath. ‘I haven’t had anything new in months.’ He’d had to content himself with scribbling in the half-full notebook in any time he could carve out. ‘No words can ever express my gratitude -’ His cheek gave a sharp whine of protest with the movement and he closed his mouth, eyes sinking to his lap. The Eakers: giving him grief even now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Did she notice? A sharp glance to her eyes showed that he was in the clear. She caught his gaze and squinted at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Out of nowhere, Kitty gave a small cry. ‘Alex! What happened to your lip?’_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________His lip? Had a split reopened? _Oh. _In Alex’s earlier terror, his front teeth had broken the layer of skin on his lower lip and blood now trickled down his chin like some kind of fosterkid!Edward Cullen. The tang of blood had been pushed from Alex’s mind, and to be honest, he had opened his lip too many times for it to register as it used to. Kitty spurned him from his chair. ‘C’mon, let’s go. I have tissues in the car, and I think you’ve had far too much time here.’___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! My writing style is a weird thing, but... yeah. Also, this chapter was really short. I only noticed that when I was in the uploading process, so I'll try to work on that sometime. 
> 
> Psst, comments give me life. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> fuN historiCAL facT; Manfred von Richthofen (the Red Baron - what a lad) had a horse called Antithesis, which was either badass or something a nine-year-old would name their Minecraft character.


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